Make a wooden xmas manger

I stared, mouth dry, heart pounding, at the message from my boss – That awful combination of words that my coworkers and I pray we never see:
“You’re in the running for Employee of the Year.”
For him to send something so callous via email – that was just rubbing salt in the wound.
My eyes glazed over the wall of text that followed. I didn’t need to read the details – I’d cleaned enough of the prior winners off the walls and ceiling of the soundproofed breakroom to know exactly what the award entailed.
After that initial, deep pang of fear faded, denial flooded in to take its place.
I wasn’t just hitting my sales quota, I was blowing it out of the damn water – selling big ticket items daily. I never forgot to place the stickers with my barcode on the products, either, so when my customers checked out and it was scanned at the register, the sales should’ve automatically been linked to my employee ID.
We don’t receive commission – there are other ‘incentives’ to keep our sales up. I hadn’t been watching the numbers because I knew I was making sales left and right – I would've never even dreamt that I was at risk.
It was just a glitch with our computer system, I decided with a nervous laugh. It had to be – something IT could probably sort out in no time.
When I finally regained control of my legs, I wobbled to my manager’s office.
There was no miscalculation, he assured me. It was my employee ID that ranked at the bottom.
“The barcodes never lie, Graham.” He didn’t even bother making eye contact.
I was circling the drain figuratively, and if I didn’t get my shit together – literally – soon enough.
I begged him to review the camera footage – I knew he'd be able to see me making all those sales. “Don’t worry,” he added, with a smile vacant of anything remotely resembling happiness, “One way or another, we all contribute to the success of our company.”
I suppose that by then, he was long desensitized to the pleas of the desperate.
As I left his office, I assured myself that this wasn’t a death sentence.
Not yet.
I had another month until they recalculated our final standings, before shit would get real. Before I’d be given a limp handshake and an empty ‘Thank you for your devotion to the company’ as I was led down the hallway. Before I’d meet what lives behind the usually padlocked door in the shadowy corner of the breakroom.
Before I’d learn what it truly meant to sacrifice myself for the good of the company.
Word spread fast around the office.
Kevin gave me his smug, shit eating grin – maybe he thought that with me out of the picture, he’d finally have a shot with Elise.
Elise… I just desperately hoped that hers wouldn’t be the name drawn afterwards – the one selected to hose what’s left of me off the breakroom floor and down the stained, rusty drain.
As required, I began parking in my new designated space at the far end of the employee lot – the faded sign indicating ‘Reserved for Employee of the Year’ nearly swallowed up by the encroaching tree line. It added an extra ten minutes to my walk to our store, and I dreaded that added time in the oppressive Texas heat. The rational part of me knew that was soon to be a moot point, though.
One way or another, in another month, I wouldn’t have that parking spot. If I were lucky, I’d live to see another summer – live to see some other poor bastard’s car parked there.
If they hadn’t already heard the news, when the rest of my coworkers saw my car in that space, they knew what it meant. Don’t get too attached.
They started avoiding me like the plague. I didn’t blame them.
We all knew what would be coming next if my sales didn’t improve – it's the same thing that happens every time:
We’d gather for the mandatory meeting on the closing night of the fiscal year, all eyes on the sorry son of a bitch that had ‘won’ – the room so quiet that you could hear their muffled sobs. They’d receive what barely constituted a handshake from my manager while he muttered – dead-eyed – his appreciation for their devotion to the company.
Next, they’d be ushered off to the breakroom to meet ‘corporate’. No one tried to run – not after what happened in '19. Instead, the winner would always turn back, shooting us a desperate, final look – eyes pleading for someone, anyone, to intervene. And, of course, no one ever did.
Once the door closed behind them and that sound-proofed room swallowed up the last of their sobbing, begging – it was over. The rest of us would be sent home and I'd try to shower away that disgusting feeling – that sick sense of relief that someone else was sent to their death, and not me.
Cal – the nicest guy I’d ever met – he was the bottom performer two years ago.
He’d fallen so ill that he’d nearly wasted away and eventually, couldn’t work anymore. He must've thought that freed him from his contract – if he left, if he never came back into work, he’d be okay.
He must not have read the fine print in our hiring paperwork.
Although, to be fair, if any of us had read it, we'd never have signed it in the first place.
Cal was a warning to the rest of us, that there is no quitting in our line of work. If they have to track you down and find you (and I promise you that they will find you) – well, wouldn’t you prefer to go with your dignity, with the company compensating your loved ones – rather than be pulled from your home, kicking and screaming into the night?
Gina was employee of the year in 2023. Gina, with the kind smile, whom Kevin had set his sights on before Elise – and, just like Elise, she wanted nothing to do with him.
I still remember that day, the day they released the final numbers. The way Gina’s mouth hung open in confusion, shock.
When she finally managed to form words again, she too insisted that there must be some mistake. We all vouched for her to management – I’d personally seen her make so many sales.
Our manager simply reminded us that the barcodes never lie.
My name was the one drawn for breakroom duty that next morning, to pick up what remained of her smile and her simple gold wedding band, to be returned to her family. In one business week, they received a box containing a check, and everything left of her that wouldn’t fit down the drain.
Once the numbers are finalized, once your employee barcode has been slapped on that innocuous looking pink slip, well, your fate is sealed.
Kevin, in all his years at the company, has never parked on the far side of the lot. He has never even come close to becoming Employee of the Year, even though he couldn’t sell a bottle of water to a man dying of dehydration. He is sleaze incarnate and doesn’t even have the charisma to mask it.
I never understood how he did so well, but I couldn’t afford to think about him.
I had myself to worry about, and the glitch in the system. Any time I found myself in the breakroom, that ancient wooden door was an unwelcome reminder of the impending one-way trip it held for me.
I took special care to keep an eye on my sales, working my ass off, pulling double shifts. I pulled up the numbers as the end of month drew near, and couldn't believe it.
I was still dead last.
Somehow, there were days where less than half of my sales had been recorded to my employee number.
I didn’t understand.
I waited for the opportunity to sneak into the manager's office, and pull the footage myself.
I’d show the boss that something had gone wrong with the calculations, that the system was broken.
I finally got my chance. At first, I triumphantly watched myself make sale after sale – far more than had been credited to my account. For the first time in a month, I felt a sense of relief. I had evidence, and that had to count for something.
I switched feeds, to the camera nearer to the registers so I could confirm that the codes were being scanned. I'd seen several scanned successfully, and reached to turn off the recording. That's when I saw it.
Saw him.
Kevin.
It was subtle. I didn't realize what he was doing at first, until I recognized the pattern. Even then, I had to rewind and watch again for it to click.
It happened for nearly half of my sales that day. I saw him Intercepting the customers before they could check out – before I could get credit for my sales. And while he chatted them up, he discretely slapped his employee barcode over my own.
I confronted him that night – I was furious. He just smiled, smugly gave me that line about how the barcodes never lie.
He didn’t give a shit that he was sentencing someone else to death.
Hell, maybe he even enjoyed it.
Kevin had stolen credit for Gina’s sales – and god knows who else's.
Fucking. Kevin.
The day our numbers were to be finalized, he had the audacity to place his barcode over mine on a huge sale I’d made – he made no attempt at hiding it – right in front of me. He flashed me a grin as he did.
I caught up with the customers before they checked out and they kindly allowed me to peel the sticker off. I stuck it in my pocket to show my manager.
I pulled the video, too, and I stormed into his office, refused to leave until he watched it. I studied him as his eyes moved across the screen and if he was upset or shocked, he certainly didn't show it.
Finally, he met my eyes, and at the sight of the pain in his – well, for the first time, I felt a sense of relief.
Until I realized why he looked so miserable. Until he whispered, “I'm sorry, Graham. Someone has to receive that award tomorrow. It's out of my hands.”
I wordlessly handed him that damn barcode sticker of Kevin’s that I’d peeled off. He studied it for a long moment before he handed it back to me with a mere, “Why don't you hold onto this.”
I told Elise what had happened over lunch, and as much as I appreciated her outrage on my behalf, I was already resigned to it. I'd mainly wanted to warn her because I had a sick feeling she'd be the one Kevin went after next.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't devastated when, that night, my boss called me into his office and informed me of the final standings. Yeah, I knew it was coming, but I guess it's just human nature to hold onto denial – hope – until the bitter end.
For what felt like an eternity, we stared at each other in silence. The presence of the pink slip of paper lying on the desk between us, said more than enough.
Finally, my eyes drifted down to the form.
He’d already signed, but the space where my barcode – the series of vertical lines spelling out my death sentence – should’ve been placed, was empty.
I never knew how this part went, since it always took place behind closed doors. No one that ever filled out that form lived to tell the rest of us about it.
“I need you to place a barcode here before I send the form to corporate.” he said, eventually.
I opened my mouth for one final, impassioned plea for my life, but he interrupted me. He spoke each word slowly, softly.
“I’m leaving the room now. I need you to place a barcode here, before I send the form to corporate.”
He stared at me for a long moment, waiting for my barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement before leaving me alone in the office.
They processed the paperwork, and announced the Employee of the Year that next day.
Yes, I did feel a pang of guilt as I watched the smug grin fade, the blood drain from Kevin’s face as he stared in shock at the outstretched hand of our manager – as he was thanked for his devotion to our company.
I felt it again as I watched him plead all the way to the breakroom, as our manager spoke to him the same mantra we’d all heard before.
The barcodes never lie.
But I thought of Gina, of the countless others, and by the time I heard the door slam behind him – the guilt was already gone. In its place, the relief of knowing the rest of us were safe.
Well, at least until next year.

Hi all - just picked up a new Kawai MP11SE and am looking for suggestions on a wooden stand. My furniture style leans more towards midcentury modern, real wood, and something that looks like a nice piece of furniture. The Nord Grand stand looks decent but the red doesn’t fit in this case. I am not looking for one of the stands that makes it look like a grand, as I want it in a smaller footprint. Any suggestions?

Looking for serious help here.
My plan is to get into 3d printing obviously. ca I want to start off with an A1 + AMS lite Start off small, to get used to the machine and fiddling with STL's.
I've compiled a list of stuff i will need and what i have.I'm looking for expansion on said list to start of somewhat prepared.
Stuff to definitely get: - A1 + AMS lite - 1 spool PLA Silk Dual Color - 2 spools PLA matte (black/white) - on sale with buying the A1 combo - PLA cosmetic pack (3 set with silk/metal/sparkle)- 2 sets of bambu's hotends (figured with the discount i may as well have spare hotends and then i can assign specific hotends to specific filaments.

• textured PEI plate or Dual Texture plate

Stuff i have: - handtools for cutting and all kinds of modifications after printing -sandpaper in several grits + wooden ends in several shapes for sanding - some software to make/edit stl's - slicing software - bunch of simple stl's and 3mf's to fiddle with - bambu handy and studio software.
Stuff i'm looking at:

• Sunlu S2 dryer. Until i can realize a DIY dryerbox that can hold more spools and slap a humidifier in (Thanks Adam Savage for THAT idea XD)
• 1 or 2 sealable boxes and some dessicant to store filament in, as well as some vacuum-sealable bags
  
• Looking at the Maker's Essential Kit A with all the spare parts....it's just shy of 160 euro's...but the amount of spare parts is staggering. not sure if i should or not.
  

https://eu.store.bambulab.com/en-nl/products/makers-essential-kit-a
Please help me with any additions/tips.
I don't mind making an investment early on to get a good start and i have a few dozen things want to start making ranging fron benchy boats to small ornaments.
I am looking to stay under 1K, so far i am just over the 850 mark.
Very much willing to learn!!
Cheers

Hi everyone,
I recently inherited an antique pistol from my great aunt's house (Belgium, Flanders) and I'm hoping to get some help identifying it. Here are some details:

• Location found: Great aunt's attic, stored in an old wooden box. Belgium
• Measurements: The overall length is about 36 cm (14 inch) , and the barrel is about 21 cm (8 inch).
• Material: The grip appears to be wood, and the rest of the pistol is metal.
• Markings: There are some engravings on the pistol , but none that look like numbers letters or any other identification.
• Condition: It seems to be in fair condition, though I'm not sure if it’s functional. The hammer and trigger mechanism appear intact.
• History: Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about its history or previous owners.

Questions:

1. Can anyone identify the make and model of this pistol?
2. What time period is this pistol from?
3. Is this pistol rare or valuable?

https://preview.redd.it/g47169vklk1d1.jpg?width=4608&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=361216da4af35702e3dc7f8731b3d49ea03e9806
https://preview.redd.it/y8zbhlinlk1d1.jpg?width=4608&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=29b2165877a14e0be10c546cd827e54289010607
https://preview.redd.it/afufw5vklk1d1.jpg?width=4608&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=d4de10623e34bcb0eecc529df602d5482ba44056
Engravings
https://preview.redd.it/1emqe5uoxl1d1.jpg?width=3456&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8830d56a15f6328232afd23ed5c5460a6ed5d4c2
https://preview.redd.it/2r7105uoxl1d1.jpg?width=3456&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=858a73819d99aaa22c3fb0c38be5187e859a1792
https://preview.redd.it/6y2kt5uoxl1d1.jpg?width=3456&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c8ef1fdb953b24229182345e85c64287dd38fed5
https://preview.redd.it/3gave7uoxl1d1.jpg?width=3456&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=da44b084e1e5767eaeb30445040c1e01d4043201
you can clearly See there has been a lot of wear on the place where the hammer strikes, which I believe to be from the gunpowder igniting or something. Could someone please confirm, or correct this.
Thank you for your time.

***Lily***
“Stupid gnome prejudice. I may not be the biggest fan of gnomes but, just because we are small doesn’t mean we can’t cause some damage.” Mogsten says as he walks over, kicks the fishman, and picks up the horn and dusts it off. “I’m hesitant to admit this since, when he regains consciousness, he will do what he could to ruin my business even more but, still, thank you Wabbajack.” He says.
“Don’t mention it Mogsten, this guy’s haggling game was all over the place.” Wabbajack responds.
“Indeed, he has no understanding of value.” Mogsten says with a smirk on his face.
“Well, unless he knew that you had about another sixty of those in the back that is.” Wabbajack says as he chuckles.
Mogsten quickly turns around as he says, “Shh. That’s a trade secret.” He then lets out an “oh ho ho” chuckle. He then looks down and yells, “Gourdsten! Clean up!”
Just like that, Gourdsten comes out from the back and drags the body off. Soon after the body disappears towards the back, Gourdsten reappears with a spray bottle, gloves, and a sponge.
“What happened to him?” I ask Mogsten.
“Don’t worry, I can’t afford a bloody reputation. He is just in stasis until the authorities get here.” Mogsten answers with.
“Stasis?” I ask.
“She really is new to all this huh? Stasis is basically freezing someone in a state of time. In this state however, while nothing can happen to them, they can’t function. Depending on the state they are in when they go under, they may be aware of the environment around them. Sometimes, certain criminals may undergo such punishment for their crimes.” Mogsten explains, looking at Wabbajack for some reason.
Mogsten then looks at me and asks, “So, did you find all the ingredients?”
I nod my head.
He then rubs his temple as he asks, “And you Really intend to go through with this?”
“There’s no other option!” I exclaim.
“Well, there are quite a few, just that they would take a LOT longer.” Wabbajack points out.
I look at him in annoyance and he responds with, “What? Just saying.”
I sigh and look at Mogsten and hand him the “ingredients”.
“Let’s see what we have. A fur scarf, a pistol, a lantern that looks like a child tried to make it, a… rubber duck. And what the world is this?” Mogsten asks pulling out the leg.
“It’s a prosthetic leg for a dragon-sized crocodile. Well, a smaller scale version at the very least.” I explain.
“Who would put a prosthetic leg on a Dragon-sized crocodile?” he asks.
“Right?” I ask in return.
He then looks back at the leg, strokes his fake beard, and says, “Well, when you put it like that, makes sense you would want to use it as an ingredient.” He then looks back at me and asks, “Are these the ingredients that you Really want to use?”
“They fit the descriptions that you gave me.” I point out.
He then looks at the ingredients again and says, “Yes… this may actually work then.”
“Come again?” I ask him.
“Well, one of the Biggest reasons, after that whole dark nature I mentioned, that this fails is that people try to influence their familiar by using ingredients that don’t inspire these feelings.” He explains.
“Because of this disconnection between the host and the familiar, that may also cause the familiar to go berserk as well.” Wabbajack then explains.
“Exactly!” Mogsten exclaims as he points towards to Wabbajack. He then looks back to me and asks, “With that in mind, are you one-Hundred percent sure that these ingredients are correct?”
I nod again and explain, “I can explain my reasons if you want.”
“No. As long as you are certain, then follow me to the back.” He says as he picks everything up again and starts waddling towards the back.
“Would you like some help?” I ask.
“No, I have to prepare everything anyways so it’s best I handle most things from here.” He explains.
Wabbajack walks past me but, I notice he is holding his banjo-thing upside-down. But, its neck is awfully long. Long enough to reach the ground and have the base be about level to his head. Which is pretty impressive since he is not that much taller than me. I want to ask about it but, I figured that is better left for later. Besides, I could probably guess that it can switch between a staff and an instrument. So, I shrug and follow them towards the back.
As I pass the flaps, I let out an audible, “Wow” because the room is massive! There is so much stock in here. I would have never guessed it from the gypsy-sized tent I see from the outside.
I guess Mogsten hears me as he says while putting the items in a pattern, “Spatial compression spell. It’s like that bag you are probably holding. It’s a pocket of space that you can mess with everything as long as it’s registered to you. Any merchant worth his salt at least attempts to lessen the target on his store to wannabe burglars. For example, there was a tannery that was completely torn apart for scrap. I hear the owner left it unattended And unlocked. I hope he can recover from that, it’s a pretty costly mistake.”
I look off towards the side and say, “Oh, I hear he is doing alright. Hehe.”
He pulls out a spray can and says while he shakes it, “That’s good.” He then starts spraying the ground.
I look over towards Wabbajack, who is standing sideways towards the thing Mogsten is working on. He has his free hand about chest level, fingers-spread, and it looks like he has a weird circle thing again like when I think I have seen him do before when he casted magic. Like when he summoned that ghost thing. I guess he is on guard duty.
I look back at Mogsten and see he is about halfway done at this point. He works fast since the design is very intricate. Now that I think about it, it looks like that circle Wabbajack has but… different. I think I remember reading about this. These must be magic circles. While they look similar, they must be different since each magic circle represents something different. Kinda like snowflakes. I can’t help but ask, “What’s that you are spraying to make that magic circle?”
“Ah, someone has been studying. It’s a mixture of compounds for creating the familiar summoning circle. I kept a few around just in case that someone managed to convince me to do this.” He explains. He then stands up and shakes it some more as he says, “I thought it was unlikely but, a smart businessman looks at every opportunity.” He then goes back to spraying and says, “Now, no offense, but mind letting me focus? I got to make sure I get this perfect. I want to lessen the margin of error as much as possible.”
“Oh! Sure. Sorry.” I say. Now that I think about it, I look towards my bag and think about what he said, “Like my bag.” I open it and it looks like a normal bag. Either it needs to be activated or it doesn’t have that spell yet. I’ll have to ask about that after we are done.
“Before I forget, leave your bandolier and bag over by Wabbajack there. We don’t want to add unnecessary items to the circle.” Mogsten says as he shakes the can again.
“Oh! Alright!” I respond. I take off my bandolier and put it down by Wabbajack.
“Don’t worry. If worse comes to worse, I’ll protect you. And come whatever may, we’ll figure out what to do next.” Wabbajack says.
I feel a little relief hearing him say that. Next thing I know, Gourdsten runs up to me with a simple white robe. “Oh, what’s this?” I ask.
“It’s a robe.” Wabbajack says.
As I look at him, annoyed, Gourdsten says, “Robe! Wear Robe!”
Mogsten then explains, “You’ll have to take off the rest of your gear as well and wear just that robe. Like I said, No unnecessary items. Only simple clothes.”
I look at the robe and say, “Oh… There is a changing room, right?”
“This way! Here, here!” Gourdsten says as he pulls my arm.
“Alright! Calm down.” I say.
I follow him to a wooden stall. “I guess I change in there, huh?” I ask.
“Yes! Correct!” Gourdsten says.
I sigh and open it up, step inside and change. Afterwards, after I step out in the robe, Gourdsten then says, “Shoes! Too!”
I look down and sigh. I then ask, “Can that wait till we get back?”
“Shoes! Shoes! He repeats.
I then puff my face in annoyance as I sit down and take off my shoes. “Happy?” I ask.
He just jumps up and down and starts walking back.
All I can think is that it’s a good thing that the floor is at least wooden. I then get up, grab my stuff, and chase after him.
As we get back, Mogsten appears out of nowhere and points behind him as he says, “Circle is done. All that is left is the blood of the subject.”
“You’re not going to slit my wrists, are you?” I ask with a meek chuckle.
“Heaven’s no!” He says as he pulls out a syringe. He then grabs my wrist under these large sleeves and asks, “On three. Ready?”
I nervously nod my head. Just as he opens his mouth, I quickly say, “Wait! Why do we need blood again?” Trying to delay the inevitable.
He looks at me and explains, “A familiar is an extension of yourself. Quite literally. In order to cement that bond, it needs the blood of the host. That bond will allow you and your familiar to share experiences but, still allow autonomy for individual thought. You can live without it but, for it to retain its presence, it needs you alive.”
“Fascinating. Mind going into more detail?” I say with a weak smile.
He then stabs the syringe into my wrist as he says, “No.”
“Ow!” I yelp.
Just like that, he pulls the syringe out and empties it out into a bowl. “Alright, here you go.” He says as he hands me the bowl.
As I stare into a small bowl of my own blood, I ask, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Now, You stand at the center of the circle. As I activate the circle, the blood will start sloshing around in that bowl. Do NOT let a SINGLE drop fall out until the last item is floating. When the last item does start floating, pour the blood in the center and take four steps back. Got it?” he explains.
I look over back to the circle and then look back to Mogsten and repeat, “Don’t let it spill until the last object starts floating. When it does, pour it all out and take four steps back, right?”
He nods and says, “Correct.” I think I then hear him mumble, “I can’t believe I was convinced to do this.” As he walks away.
I then take my place at the center of the circle. I am somewhat trembling at this point.
“Are you sure, you want to do this?” Mogsten asks again.
“Just do it already!” I yell back.
He lets out a sigh and starts mouthing something as he levels out his arms towards me.
I could feel the energy around me shifting and moving. I start seeing the objects that were placed start floating one by one. Slowly but surely. I then look down at the bowl and it is sloshing around. So far, not too bad. Around the time the fourth object starts floating, the blood really starts flying around to the point I have to actually adjust to make sure it doesn’t go flying out.
After a few more minutes the last object starts flying up. As soon as it stops moving, I pour the blood and take four steps back. The blood stops midair and forms a bubbling ball. It then rises up about level to my face. It stops bubbling and then a flash of blinding light envelops the room and I try to shield my eyes.
After a minute, I slowly open my eyes and lower my arms. What I see before me is something pretty weird.
It’s in the shape of a sphere with a detached fox tail. The floating tail matches the fur of the body of the “familiar”, I guess. Its fur is a golden yellow with a white tip. The body looks like it has a line down the middle, with Very sharp fangs from the top row. It has fox ears and tiny fox paws and a fox nose. It’s got lines for eyes? Either that or they are just closed. Between its ears, it has a lantern dangling from a line, kinda like an angler fish. The other side of that line looks like white gator leather and it has two tiny gator feet. As it yawns, I guess, it opens its massive mouth, showing all its fangs, top and bottom rows, and stretches its fox paws, revealing some nasty looking barbed claws. It’s only as tall as, from the floor, up to my knee.
[First] [Previous]

My work schedule
I’m so glad that they gave me more days because I wanted more than two days for a while now but of course a weird situation came up. Well, my new schedule is five days. One of my mangers calls me and says. Hey I’m changing your days today it’s going to be a lot more hours because we have a inspection coming up. So I was like all right cool my only day I can’t work is Sunday. She called me Saturday to just confirm five days works. Of course I’m put on Sundays but just for this week, so I’m fine with it.
I asked this manager, I said hey, do you want me to come in tomorrow? This is because Sunday is the start of our work week. This is when we get paid and everything like that. Which would be the first day on the schedule. She said no not until next Sunday so I’m like all right bet. I was confused so I called again last night to confirm. Hey, do I have work this week just to make sure I didn’t have to come in except for Thursday Friday which I usually work. My friend who I’m not gonna rat out told me I’ll text you to make sure. Of course I didn’t get a text back as he probably forgot.
I was about to go to sleep because I happen to be a vampire today. Then I got a call saying hey, you know you were supposed to come in right you have five days this week. I honestly was flabbergasted. I was like I thought that wasn’t until next week. So now I’m rushing to get dressed with my phone at 40% battery on no sleep because of this. I don’t blame my manager he’s just like why the fuck does this make sense?

In this clip CEO of Nvidia presents a country's language, culture, and intelligence as a resource they cannot afford not to exploit by feeding them into Artificial Intelligence. This immediately brings to mind Martin Heidegger's 1954 essay The Question Concerning Technology wherein modern technology is described as a framework that transforms our way of understanding things away from a stand-alone essence and into an instrumental, standing-reserve of a resource.
In this post I'll articulate why I think the Nvidia CEO is saying something monstrous and awful by suggesting that we challenge-forth language and culture. Leaning on Heidegger's understanding of Technology, I will primarily make use of a critical distinction he makes in the relationship between humans and nature, which is that of bringing-forth and challenging-forth. I will summarize some key concepts form the essay so you don't have to read it in full.
The primary distinction between bringing-forth and challenging-forth is whether the essence (or if you prefer, identity or understanding) of some thing remains as a stand-alone existence unto itself or if it is subsumed under the essence of the process that extracts a resource from it.
Bringing-Forth is likened to an old wooden bridge across the Rhine river. The bridge is revealed as a way forward, as a space and a road and an object, but not in a manner that the Rhine is now subsumed under it. The Rhine is not reduced (in our understanding) to the waters that go under the bridge, the bridge brings-forth a way across the river, but the Rhine is still, in essence, still understood as a thing unto itself, independent from any need that water run under the bridge.
By contrast, Heidegger brings up a hydroelectric dam on the Rhine.

"The hydroelectric plant is set into the current of the Rhine. It sets the Rhine to supplying its hydraulic pressure, which then sets the turbines turning. This turning sets those machines in motion whose thrust sets going the electric current for which the long-distance power station and its network of cables are set up to dispatch electricity. In the context of the interlocking processes pertaining to the orderly disposition of electrical energy, even the Rhine itself appears to be something at our command. The hydroelectric plant is not built into the Rhine River as was the old wooden bridge that joined bank with bank for hundreds of years. Rather, the river is dammed up into the power plant."

To Heidegger, it is not just the physical flow of water in the river that is dammed and disrupted, but rather our understanding of the river is dammed. We are no longer seeing it for itself but rather as something within our control, something from which we can challenge-forth to give "maximum yield at the minimum expense". The Rhine is now the smaller part to a process whose essence has overtaken the essence of any one part.
In order to enable this process to continue Heidegger says that "Everywhere everything is ordered to stand by, to be immediately on hand, indeed to stand there just so that it may be on call for a further ordering." The dam is our order to the Rhine that the gravitational energy of the cubic meters of water that it has stand by for future use, in a manner that the bridge does not order the Rhine to flow underneath it.
This quote from Ayn Rand's Fountainhead neatly encapsulates how challenging-forth encourages the framing of the world:

"He looked at the granite. To be cut, he thought, and made into walls. He looked at a tree. To be split and made into rafters. He looked at a streak of rust on the stone and thought of iron ore under the ground. To be melted and to emerge as girders against the sky. These rocks, he thought, are waiting for me; waiting for the drill, the dynamite and my voice; waiting to be split, ripped, pounded, reborn; waiting for the shape my hands will give them"

Rand is (expectedly) writing in praises of this framework, but to the view of Heidegger, this is a monstrous thing, the tree and the granite and the rocks are all robbed of an essence, an understanding of themselves as they are and transformed into something that must be ordered around to stand by for an endless process of revealing, regulating, and securing.
What then, does this have to do with the Nvidia CEO's claim? Well, quite clearly, AI has made it possible for people to issue the order of standing-reserve not just to the forces of nature, but to things inside ourselves, such as language, culture, intelligence. These things, that embody the inner lives of people, our relationships, and our histories, are challenged-forth are to be ordered.
The writer, unlike the model, brings-forth something from language, she cannot hope to control language, merely to reveal some finite thing from it in the manner that the bridge revelas away forward from the Rhine. She cannot order language to be "immediately on hand" to be endlessly revealed into something whenever desired, because her limited and phenomenological perspective makes her attempts subordinate to the size of language as an entity larger than herself. She understands language as something with an essence that she cannot wield in its totality and in that relationship the essence of language is preserved, as something greater than her desires to make writing from it, but nonetheless able to yield to her enough for her needs.
This here is what distinguishes AI from other tools that relate to language, culture and intelligence. AI finally enables us to treat the great corpuses as a standing reserve we can challenge-forth and industrialize, that we can subsume those things permanently under the endless cycle of revealing. If our language, thought and intelligence are a river, AI is the dam. The river still flows, but it is subsumed as the resource from which the dam extracts something, as the thing the dam challenges to produce.
Like Heidegger, I see a certain monstrosity in this, and it is especially awful when it invades this realms of the inner lives of people.
Heidegger argued that man was the first resource to be ordered in this manner:

"Only to the extent that man for his part is already challenged to exploit the energies of nature can this revealing that orders happen. If man is challenged, ordered, to do this, then does not man himself belong even more originally than nature within the standing-reserve? The current talk about human resources, about the supply of patients for a clinic, gives evidence of this. The forester who measures the felled timber in the woods and who to all appearances walks the forest path in the same way his grandfather did is today ordered by the industry that produces commercial woods, whether he knows it or not. He is made subordinate to the orderability of cellulose, which for its part is challenged forth by the need for paper, which is then delivered to newspapers and illustrated magazines."

But indeed, with the ability to challenge-forth culture and language and intelligence, man is made infinitely and completely subordinate to industry. And that, I think, we should never allow.

​

Disclaimer: I have switched back to the main subreddit, so aside from three, maybe four of you, you’re probably missing out on some context. If you’d like to be all caught up, you can comb through the previous episodes on my profile.
Votes:
Emma - 2
Katie - 1
Props to u/Proofracer for coming up with plot points
At the campfire ceremony, Chris attempts to build suspense by reminding the campers about the safety of a marshmallow, but Heather insists he get on with it, so the moment is cut short. Chris calls on Shawn, Zoey and Max before tossing them all a marshmallow. He then gives Owen and Heather one each, leaving Emma and Katie. Both Emma and Heather shoot angry looks at Katie, making her feel a tad worried, but Chris gives her the last marshmallow and deems Emma eliminated, causing her to have an outburst at Heather.
Emma: I knew I couldn’t trust you! You’re a backstabbing snake!
Heather: Please, as if I’d betray you this early. If I had any say, you’d still be here for a few more weeks.
Emma: Then, how?
Katie: It’s not just me who’d been fed up with how mean you’ve become. We don’t want a second Heather on this team. No offense.
Heather: Offense taken.
As Emma walks the dock of shame and the rest of the Screaming Gophers disperse, Chris turns to the camera to say his outro.
Chris: Will Max finally do something actually evil? How much longer can Heather keep her alliance afloat? And what will Damien do once he finds out about Bunny’s replacement? Find out next time, on Total Drama Island!
In-world votes:
Emma - Katie, Owen, Max, Shawn
Katie - Heather, Zoey, Emma
Basic Straining
The episode opens with Duncan using his knife to carve a skull into the wall of the Bass cabin when Axel exits the cabin. She scoffs at him, but before she can leave, Duncan attempts to apologize for how he’s treated her in the past. Axel stops to think for a second, but she sees through Duncan’s lie and leaves anyway.
Confessional:
Duncan: Of course I didn’t mean what I said to Axel, but Trent and Sammy are too loyal to one another, and Damien’s essentially attached himself to Dawn. Sadly this means that Axel is the only person I have a chance to ally with, so I need to get back on her good side.
Meanwhile at the Gophers cabin, Katie is sitting dejectedly on the front steps when Owen comes over to cheer her up.
Owen: Are you still bummed out about poisoning me? It’s okay, I know it was an accident.
Katie: That’s only half the problem. Emma got so mad at me for it, and now apparently I brought a cursed item to the team.
Owen: You mean your tiki souvenir? Are you sure it’s cursed?
Katie: Apparently it’s from Boney Island, so I’d say it’s pretty cursed.
Owen: Well, you don’t have to get rid of it, if that’s what you’re worried about. It may be cursed, but it’s still yours. I say you should keep it to remember this show by.
Katie: Thanks Big-O.
Owen: You know what? Let's prove Emma wrong. If you try your best this time, I’m sure you’d do way better at the challenge than you think!
Just then, the loudspeakers turn on, but instead of Chris, it’s Chef Hatchet who orders the campers to meet him at the docks for their next challenge. At the docks, Chef is dressed in a military uniform and starts barking orders at the campers about fixing their forms, with the one exception being Axel, whose form he deems “surprisingly average”. Chef then goes over today’s challenge. The teams will go through Chef’s grueling boot camp and drop out one by one until the last person remaining wins immunity for their team. Heather asks Chef what happened to Chris, but he ignores it and starts going over further rules, like how everyone will have to address him as Master Chief, and that no one eats or sleeps unless he says so.
Confessional:
Axel: I was never trained in the military, but I’m adept in most fields of work Master Chief could go over, so this will be a breeze.
For the first part of the boot camp, each team must carry a canoe, and will continue to do so until someone drops out and rings a bell on the dock. Owen and Trent each make a remark about how easy the challenge sounds, but by noon, everyone is starting to feel the heat.
Chris and Chef are sitting on top of the canoes while taunting the campers about missing lunch. This causes Owen to think about quitting, but Max catches on and tells him not to.
The Bass are still holding up strong, so Duncan tries to talk to Axel again. He says that he knows she hates him, but they’re both stuck between the two couples and need each other. This causes Axel to angrily reply that she’d take her chances with the others over him, leaving Duncan beginning to get annoyed. However, Trent overhears the conversation and begins to look worried.
As night rolls through, the campers are all tired, especially Owen, who has fallen asleep with his arms still holding onto the canoe. Chef is recalling a story from his military days, and Heather asks him what war he was in, causing him to shout at her. Heather then turns to Shawn and tries to strike up a conversation with him.
Heather: Hey Zombie Boy, how do you feel about joining my alliance?
Shawn: Wait what? You’re kidding, right?
Heather: You and Emma were friends, yes?
Shawn: Sure, but that doesn’t mean I trust you. What happened to getting payback on me for locking you in the freezer?
Heather: You could trust me if you were in my alliance. With Emma gone, I’m missing a member of the alliance, and if you join, you won’t be in as bad a spot as you are now.
Shawn: Oh, and what is that supposed to mean?
Heather: Think about it. I didn’t vote Emma off, she got herself eliminated. If the team knew you worked with her, maybe they’d vote you out too. Especially since you’re such a big threat without any allies. With me, I could protect you, plus I won’t plot against you anymore.
Shawn: You were plotting against me?
Heather: That’s besides the point. Just think about it.
Later, Chef has finished bragging about his line of duty just in time for Max to decide he isn’t going to stand in one spot anymore. Much to his teammate’s dismay, he walks down the dock and rings the bell, thus allowing the contestants to drop their canoes. Chef insults Max through his megaphone before ordering everyone else to go to the mess hall to eat dinner, getting Owen excited.
In the cafeteria, Chef announces that everyone will get only ten minutes to eat before he starts night training, which gains him a lot of complaints. Damien asks him where the food is, and Chef gestures to a row of trash cans filled with leftover garbage from breakfast, which only causes more complaining. Owen, however, doesn’t discriminate against the disgusting food and eats some anyway. Chris then invites Chef to eat at the craft services tent, leaving the teams to themselves.
Trent meets with Sammy and tells her about what he heard between Duncan and Axel. He says that Duncan has a point and that since nobody really likes Duncan, Axel would be the deciding vote between them and Dawn and Damien. Hearing this, Sammy comes up with an idea, and suggests winning Axel over ahead of time so that she’s with them. Trent likes the idea, so Sammy goes over to talk with Axel. They have a friendly conversation, and Sammy offers Axel the least disgusting food she can find in the trash, to which Axel declines. Sammy then returns to Trent to talk about other ways to win Axel over.
Damien was watching Sammy’s conversation with Axel, and realises what she and Trent were trying to do, so he walks over to Dawn to talk with her.
Damien: I hate to say this, but we’re going to have to start getting extra votes against Trent and Sammy
Dawn: But why? Wouldn’t we just vote Duncan?
Damien: No, that’s not- I mean, after Duncan’s gone, all that’s left of the Killer Bass is us, them, and Axel. And I think they know that too, because they’re trying to bond with her.
Dawn: Yes, Axel is stuck in between the four of us. I’m not very worried though. I’m good friends with her.
Damien: I know, but we should start getting closer so that if need be, Axel will vote with us instead of them.
Damien then digs through the trash and finds a carrot that is half eaten, but otherwise clean. He decides to save it for Bunny, before noticing that Dawn looks unsure of something. He asks her what’s wrong and she brushes it off as having missed Bunny while it was gone. Damien is happy with this answer and tells Dawn that he knew she and Bunny would get along well, but this only makes her feel worse.
Confessional:
Dawn: Bunny left Damien, but I still don’t know why Duncan found a replacement. Duncan is not to be trusted, but I don’t know how to break the news to Damien that Bunny’s really gone.
We then cut to the next part of the boot camp, which is to repeat Chef’s suspiciously Triller-esque dance routine. The dancing goes on for a while until it’s interrupted when Duncan shuts off the music. Chef angrily asks him what he’s doing so Duncan reminds him about how once someone drops out the training ends. Chef says that they’ll be done when he says they’re done, before forcing Duncan to do push-ups.
Next up, write a three hundred word essay about how much you love Chef, being eliminated if you fall asleep or fail to reach the minimum word count. Owen and Katie are discussing ways to pad out their essays while cracking jokes to make each other laugh. Seeing the two of them bonding, Shawn turns back to his own essay looking a little less confident.
Duncan takes a break from doing the challenge to try and persuade Axel to join him again. She snaps at him and tells him to get lost, but Duncan mentions Shawn, which gets her attention.
Duncan: Let’s face it, everybody knows you like Shawn.
Axel: So? If you want to mock me about it, expect a fight!
Duncan: No, I’m saying that you two are pathetic. Neither one of you ever makes a move! Watching you two is like watching a car crash in slow motion.
Axel: (Sarcastically) Thanks for the advice, Dr. Love.
Duncan: You need a wingman, badly. So it’s going to be me.
Axel: Why would I ever listen to you?
Duncan: Because if you and Shawn are ever going to be a thing, you need me.
Axel: Fine. But if you pull anything you’ll leave this island in a cast.
Duncan gets Axel to close the deal with a handshake before returning back to working on the challenge. Later, Chef returns to pick up the essays, and eliminates both Trent and Zoey for falling asleep. As for everyone else, their essays meet the requirement, although Duncan’s is just one sentence with 289 verys in between. On his way out of the cafeteria, Chef slips in a puddle of Owen’s drool from him being half asleep, and Duncan offers to clean him off. This causes Chef to yell at him again, and the rest of the Bass stop Duncan from saying anything more, lest he get them all in trouble.
The next evening, the training continues, as Chef forces the campers to run an obstacle course until everyone can do it in less than a minute. As they climb a wooden wall, Axel asks Duncan for advice and he tells her she should get Shawn’s attention by showing off her survival skills in the course. Axel takes the advice and waits for Shawn to reach the top of the wall before jumping off and doing acrobatic tricks in midair. This catches Shawn’s eye, who shows off some tricks of his own in return.
The obstacle course causes trouble for some of the other campers, as Owen gets stuck while jumping through a tire, getting him eliminated. On top of that, Damien falls flat on his face when climbing the wall. He pukes up some mud, and is coughing and sputtering, so Chef eliminates him too and sends him to the infirmary.
After going through a montage of campers falling into the mud or otherwise failing, we see Katie struggle to clear a rope swing. She remembers what Owen told her and tries it again, only to clear it easily. She cheers for herself before continuing to run the course.
While crawling through the mud, Sammy reaches a deep spot and starts sinking. Duncan passes while mocking her, only to come across an angry Chef. He gives Duncan more pushups, but Duncan just thanks Chef before kissing him on the nose. This sends Chef off the edge and he announces that Duncan will spend the rest of the night in solitary confinement in the boathouse. This causes everyone to gasp, but Duncan asks how bad it could be, before we cut to him sitting in the boathouse regretting that comment.
In the cafeteria, the contestants remaining in the boot camp are being fed rock hard gruel. Dawn sits down next to Axel, intending to win her over, but Axel is the one to talk first. She explains to Dawn how Duncan is working as a wingman for her and Shawn, and while Dawn is happy for Axel, she reminds her about how Duncan is untrustworthy. She talks about how he replaced Bunny when it left Damien, and that she thinks he has a secret agenda behind everything. Axel agrees with Dawn but leaves to get more advice from Duncan anyway.
Heather finds the gruel Chef has served her to be well past unappetizing, and chooses to instead try to persuade Shawn again. She points out how close Owen, Katie and Max have become, and that since she still has Zoey, they’ll go after him first. After careful consideration, Shawn caves and agrees to work with her. But he specifies that while he will do what’s required for her to protect him, he will not associate himself as a member of her alliance. Despite this, Heather is still pleased by the news, and leaves to get some sleep.
In the boathouse, Axel finds Duncan sweeping the floors to pass the time.
Duncan: Did you get General Crazy angry at you too?
Axel: No, I’m here so you can make good on our deal. What’s some more advice you have?
Duncan: Really? You can’t be so desperate that you need my help for every single thing.
Axel: Then what do you want me to do then? This was entirely your idea!
Duncan: Just ask Shawn out. Maybe set up a date or something. But if you just sit there and don’t talk to him I promise you that nothing good will happen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to mess with Chef.
Duncan then leaves despite Chef’s orders and heads towards the craft services tent, leaving Axel behind wondering what she could do.
In the Gophers cabin, Katie visits Owen, who congratulates her on doing so well in the boot camp. Katie is ecstatic at her performance and thanks him for giving her the pep talk. Max, while also happy for Katie, insists that “Evil has better things to do than make friends” as he works on something secret in his bunk bed. Owen tells Katie that he thinks she can win the entire challenge, but to this Katie is still a bit skeptical.
The remaining Bass return to their cabin to find Trent and Damien playing cards on the front steps, and inside Dawn finds various snacks left in a big pile on her bed. She’s confused how it got there, but is happy to finally find something edible, so she invites everybody on both teams to hang out and eat the food. As the eleven of them dig in, they discuss how insane Chef is for making them do full on combat training, with only Shawn, Axel, and surprisingly Katie enjoying the challenge. Eventually the relaxation is ruined when Chef barges in and orders everyone in the Killer Bass to line up outside. He announces that the food they were dining on was stolen from the craft services tent, and that he was tipped off that it was one of them because the perpetrator left a raw bass in the fridge. Dawn confesses that she found it on her bed, but before she can explain herself Chef automatically eliminates her from the boot camp and confiscates the rest of the food.
Chef starts the last part of the boot camp the next morning, which is to hang upside-down from a tree until only one person is left. The last campers left are Sammy, Duncan and Axel for the Bass, and Shawn, Heather and Katie for the Gophers. Axel confronts Duncan about what he did, and he admits he stole Chris and Chef’s food, left a bass behind as a calling card and dumped the food on the first bed he found. Axel is pissed at him for getting Dawn in trouble with Chef and cuts the deal between them, causing Duncan to tell her that he never really cared.
Confessional:
Duncan: Okay, maybe I went a little too far, but I’ve always found a way to stay in the game. Surely this will be no different, right?
Chef rants about the side effects of being upside down, and as he goes over each one, someone gets it, causing them to fall off the tree. Eventually it’s down to Axel and Katie, with Dawn cheering on Axel while Owen motivates Katie. Axel looks between Dawn and Duncan, and is visibly conflicted, while Katie’s starting to get dizzy. But just as she’s about to fall, Axel jumps off first, meaning the Screaming Gophers win. Katie then falls off the tree before being enveloped in a bear hug by Owen. Chef congratulates Katie, saying he’d go to war with her anytime, but she gets mixed messages from the complement.
Duncan scolds Axel, saying she lost the challenge for them. But she snaps at him in front of everyone.
Axel: You are not fit to be on this island! You essentially threw two challenges, ridiculed me the entire game, and now got Dawn disqualified just because you wanted to prank Chef! So excuse me if I want you out!
Duncan snaps back at her before storming off, and for the first time in a while, Axel looks relieved. Dawn then comes up to her with Damien telling her that she did the right thing. Afterwards, Damien asks Dawn if she only said that to get Axel on their side, gaining an annoyed look from her. Seeing this, he backtracks and says that they should help Axel like real friends, and is relieved when Dawn nods her head in agreement.
Vote off a Killer Bass and come up with any plot points you want to see later.

I quit drinking 1.5 years ago and in many ways it was a good decision. However, it would be a lie to say it's magically fixed my life as a lot of newly sober people claim. Specifically, it's become painfully obvious to me just how impossible it is for me to socialize when stone cold sober. This is despite having years, decades really, of various social experience as well as even studying human socialization as a special interest for many years. I get the theory, but my mind can't pull off the actions. Some of the things I experience when trying to do this:

• Generally nervous
• Can't maintain eye contact and think simultaneously
• Disjointed speech
• Monotone
• Delayed responses due to overthinking
• Voice physically weak or scratchy
• Opposite of "cool," or "smooth"
• Stiff, wooden, and random movements
• No confidence

What's amazing is just one or two drinks fixes all this. However, I am also aware that alcohol shuts down your brain making it more and more likely you will keep drinking past the sweet spot and wreck your life.
I'm not ready to abandon sobriety, but if I was being completely honest, the lack of ability to form relationships is probably more detrimental to my future than chancing the ill effects of alcohol consumption. I'm at a point where if I was in a pinch there is literally no one I could call to help me out; zero friends, family will not talk to me anymore. I genuinely need to form some relationships just for the sake of safety in the modern world, and it's kind of becoming a big priority for me.
Has anyone dealt with this and made the decision to employ alcohol again as a rational decision and not just because they really wanted to? Is it even possible to control its use long term (I kind of think the answer is no). Any thoughts or solidarity much appreciated.

Im glad y'all liked the last chapter. I'm going to continue this story and see where it goes. As usual, if you like this then make sure to like and comment: I really value your feedback. I'm also thinking of going back and editing some things, as I thought of some cool ideas that might make the story more interesting, mainly some Meta ideas to increase the depth of this litRPG. So make sure to go back and read the last chapter in a bit: some things may be different.
First
I gripped the rough leather hilt of my new sword tightly as I walked down the newly lit hall within this strange labyrinth. The air was dank and musty, and cobwebs hung from every corner. The dented blade glowed in the firelight, as did the breastplate, and I was just starting to warm up.
I didn't like this place: it made me feel uneasy. The loneliness was also crushing, but for some reason I was used to it. The weight of all my gear was also heavy, with all the weapons and rations causing my shoulders to ache, but I pressed forward. Something inside me insisted that this was familiar, and if I could do it before then I could do it now.
At first, the hall seemed unending, but after what felt like hours I finally reached a large, open room with a humble wooden throne in the center. The edges of the vaulted ceilings held great tapestries that had faded over time, the once magnificent artistry lost forever. Candelabras, urns, and braziers all forged from bronze and inlaid with different gems and precious metals were strewn about, and there was a gigantic bronze brazier at the center of the room, just in front of the throne.
On the throne sat a withered corpse wearing a crown of twisted branches, as well as rusted armor that had fused with flesh long ago. Simple wooden coffins lined the walls, six in total, each likely containing another corpse.
Then I noticed the brazier in the middle: it had long gone cold, the coals dead and waiting to be given life again by flame. But what worried me more was the burnt remains of the skeleton in the center: it was a reptilian thing, tall and robust judging by the size of the femurs, and it gripped a sword much like mine…
Okay, I didn't like this place at all, not one bit. Whoever was here before me obviously met some horrible fate, maybe even burnt alive within the brazier, which was a fate I had no desire to experience.
Next to the throne was a chest, and anyone with common sense knew that opening the chest would probably be a bad idea. So I looked for something far more valuable: an exit. At the far end of the room we're a pair of double doors made from polished slate, and soni approached them. I ran my scaly hands across it and admiring the beautiful masonwork: engraved with elegant images of all sorts of events, such as men slaying giants, terrifying dragons burning down villages, great treasures hidden away, and a large mead hall with a boat as it's roof nestled on a hill, it was something out of legend. But that didn't matter, I just needed them to open so I could leave. They didn't budge from me pushing them, nor did they possess any handles or bars, so something else has to activate them.
I decided to see if I could get some answers out of the magic note turned journal. I pulled it out and began writing with the quill, the tip seemingly possessing an endless supply of ink. How do I open the doors?
Once again, my good hand began moving if it had a mind of its own, scribbling out a minimalist sentence that would probably be of no use to me. Open the chest.
I grumbled and wrote down another response. Will bad things happen if I open the chest?
More furious scribbling against my will. Bad things will happen either way.
Well, that was reassuring.
What will happen when I open the chest?
Bad things. I wanted to punt the book across the room. I just stuffed it back into my bag and growled again, the depth of my reptilian voice startling me. I was sure I wasn't supposed to sound like that, but I did. Maybe I was just overthinking this, and it was just a side effect of some kind of amnesia, but I really felt like I was in the wrong body.
I turned back to the throne and the chest next to it. It was a simple wooden thing with no lock, so it wouldn't be challenging to open at all. I walked towards it, sword in hand, anxiety shooting through me like electricity, and as I bent down to open it up I couldn't help but look behind me as I did so.
Then, with one simple motion, I opened it. There was more than I expected, but still not much, just a small pile of rough gold coins and a few assorted gems. I dipped my hand into the gold and pulled out a handful, the coins each easily the width of a golf ball and decently hefty too. Then I looked for a place to put them: if I was going to be put in danger for opening this damn chest, then I was going to get something out of it.
As I stuffed the gold into my pack, I heard creaking next to me, and I instinctively dropped my pack onto the ground and kicked it to the side before rolling away. The withered corpse lifted itself up from the wooden throne, a faint hissing escaping its lips as if its vocal chords no longer worked. Then it turned to me, eyes glowing red with hatred and jaw clenched. It balled its fists and deeper its hateful gaze before pointing at me and unleashing an ear-splitting hiss like that of copper pipes coming apart. I lifted up my longsword and held it in a defensive stance, backing away slowly as my ears rang. Then I felt a bony hand on my shoulder.
I spun around and swung the blade, vivisecting another corpse halfway. All the other coffins were bursting open, and the angered dead were hobbling out, some holding rusted and chipped weapons, others simply meandering towards me with the same hatred in their eyes as the first. I was surrounded.
I swung my sword and cut one’s head off, the otherwise dry and leathery flesh of its neck giving way to my old longsword. Then I sliced through the knee of another, sending it sprawling to the ground before I stomped its head into pieces. That left four, including the one on the throne. That one stood back, glaring at me and waving its hands as if conducting an orchestra, its armored robes flowing despite the lack of ventilation. It must be the one controlling the undead.
I matched forward, sword lifted again and swung at the leader of the undead. It blocked the strike with its armored bracer and swiped at me, bony hands scraping against my breastplate but also imbuing me with an overwhelming weakness to the touch, as if I hadn't slept for days. With a grunt, I kicked him back and onto the floor, but the rest of the dead seemed to fall into a frenzy, charging at me as if they were rabid ghouls. I needed to end this, and I needed to end it now.
I impaled the first undead and kicked him off alongside their ringleader, then slammed the pommel of by sword into the forehead of the next with a spiteful roar that seemed to charge the air with static, crushing the undead’s skull inward and releasing the energy trapped within as if crumbled to the floor. The third swiped at my arm, causing an intense cold to run through me and a horrible pain to erupt from the deceptively small laceration, as if maggots were chewing on my flesh. I roared again and swung diagonally, vivisecting the decrepit thing all at once.
That left the composer. It stood back up and seemed even angrier than before, as if it had actually cared for those skeletons. Then I heard a voice behind its bestial whispers, a voice that almost sounded… pained. “Hadvar, Børge, Aegilief, Gunhild, Halfdan, Ivar! Do not fall, not to this dragon’s bastard!” It seemed to exclaim, but its cries seemed to fall on deaf ears as the corpses were no more, what remained of the flesh disintegrating into nothing more than ash, leaving only dirty bones behind.
“You shouldn't have attacked me.” I said behind grit fangs, my body still recovering from the effects of their icy touch. But no matter how much I tried to justify it to myself, it always felt like a weak response: I was probably plundering some poor guy's tomb, and then proceeded to kill all his friends to boot. I was in the wrong here, but I wasn't just going to be trapped in this shit hole of a tomb forever.
Then I looked at the brazier, which was now lit and burning, the otherwise bleached white bones of the reptile thing within coated in fresh soot. They would've killed me, or I would've starved. And they were already dead, anyway: for all I knew the undead here were held together by nothing more than old memories and whatever terrible magic possessed this place. I wasn't going to die yet, I at least wanted to see the sun one last time.
“Sorry about you and your friends, but I'm not going to die here today,” I said, trying to seem apologetic, “I've only got one shot, or so I've been told.” I matched forward again, unwavering, and busted him in the head with my pommel before slicing off his arm at the joint when he tried to reach out for me again, hissing with anger. Then, as I bullied him backwards to put some length between us, I finally kicked him one last time and jammed the end of my sword into his empty eye socket, sending the blade through his rotting head and out the back. He let out one last hiss before going limp, whatever magical nonsense holding him together dissipating as his body crumpled and his bones unknitted themselves.
I dropped the sword with a grunt and sank to my knees. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and my stomach was churning. The horrible sickness the undead gave me when it swiped at me seemed to be winding down, the pain in my arm dull and more distracting than painful, but the unbearable cold and discomfort was still coursing through me. I needed to get out of this wretched place. This was a tomb, right? Maybe that door led to some kind of exit to the outdoors, or at least a pathway to it.
I forced myself back up on my feet, retrieved my bag and filled it with the rest of the treasure from the chest, and strapped everything on my back once again. I would probably want to find some kind of civilization, maybe a place where this gold would hold some value, because then maybe I could use it to find some answers.
Behind me, the doors began to crumble with a glowing purple light, as if the magic that has sealed it had been broken with the death of the undead on the throne, and I could see some semblance of light. I rushed towards it, only to find myself in an even colder area than before. The air was frigid and filled with a thick, looking fog that seemed to sap the strength out of me. It felt like an early spring morning, when it would go just above freezing and the rain had come in droves overnight, leaving behind the mist. Spruces, pines and other evergreen trees towered around me, and the forest floor was coated in thick roots, mossy rocks, vines, and dead evergreen needles. A dirt path that had long been overtaken by the forest stretched away from the tomb I had emerged from, leading me away from this place.

[Part 1]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.

The past few summers, my downstairs neighbors have decided to fill a kiddie pool and let their kids play in it on the balcony. They live on the second floor and I live on the third floor. It’s a very old building, wooden balcony. I know it’s still pretty solid but I’m wondering if it can really withstand all that weight from the water? Is this really a thing people do?
Even though it’s not above me, it makes me anxious that the whole porch will collapse when I’m outside and I think it’s just a stupid thing to do, but I can’t tell if that’s a me problem. What do you think of this situation?

Please bear with me, I’m no expert by any stretch. I would like to make a wooden cabinet for my bathroom and I would like to ask a few questions as I have a rough idea of the design:

• what tools would make it easier? I guess an angle saw? What else?
• what type of wood is advised for the job? Should I give the wood any surface treatment in particular?
• any other tips or tricks?

Thanks in advance

Long story very short: For a school assignment, I've tried to use an Enum in a system that sorts colored wooden block, by making an array of value and processing that array as blocks are being forwarded on a conveyor belt. However, the array doesn't work. I've made an array of 10, I can fill the 10 indexes, but, after that, I can't remove indexes or add new indexes.
I was wondering if normal array behaviors aren't programmed for arrays and if I needed to program those myself ?

Click this link to read Chapter 1.
It all started when…
Chapter 2: Of Boosters and Boomsticks
Wooden crates, about 2 feet taller than me and wide enough to fit two dead bodies, sat lined up outside, leaning against the back of the warehouse. All of them had been stamped “This End Up” with a large arrow pointing said direction, all in black charring. Below the arrow, in red paint, the word “EXPLOSIVE” had been stenciled.
“Ahhh, one of my favorite words!” I says as I teasingly knocked on the crate loud enough for Hoskins to hear, “Explosive.”
Hoskins was the inventory clerk, a short and stout man with a surly dispassion. He had an accent I found hard to place but, since he’s too dead for me to ask these days, I’m just gonna’ say he came from somewhere around the Australian plateau. Maybe New Zealand or Tasmania, someplace like that…I don’t know. Wish I did.
Anyways —
“Bloody ‘ell, mate! You’re chancin’ a right trip straight to the barbie!” he says.
“Yeah,” I says with a coy smile, “You love it when I tease you.” I stretched my arms out, a little proud of myself for riling him up so easily.
“Yeah, mate. You and that boobie.” He pointed to my shirt.
Sure enough, a hole in the right side of my shirt had risen up and, while I stretched, one of the girls was sayin’ ‘Hello!’ to Hoskins, who just grinned to himself as he looked away to the wooden crate. Lettin’ my stance relax back to oh-naturel, I straightened my shirt and jacket, and set to helpin’ the guy ease one of the crate’s lids open. From inside the crate, strands and bundles of hay began to fall out, and Hoskins kicked it all off to the side.
“Diesel, I got this lid,” he grunted as he took all the weight. “Make sure none of that hay blows away.”
“Why?” I asked, completely clueless to the situation. “You afraid the mustangs will go after it or something? I mean they know the field’s mined, don’t they?” Now you might be thinking ‘Mustangs? Like the horses?’ and I could see why you’d be thinking that but, no, the mustangs I’m talking about were the rabble rousing punks that were always trying to raid us.
He stopped and thought about it as though it were the first time it had crossed his mind, “There is that, ya’ bet. They’d give anything for this stuff.”
“But?” I pressed as I knelt down to scoop up the falling hay.
Still just standing there, thinking, he looked right at me and said, “I suppose it’s time for ya’ be brought in on certain things.”
“What kind of ‘certain things’?” I raised an eyebrow as I looked up at him with a fist full of hay.
“Well,” he thought some more. “The sergeant thought it okay for ya’ to come out here with me and grab this stuff, so…”
“So…what?”
The wind picked up and hit the crates lid just right, I saw it teeter and, as I stood to keep from getting’ squashed, Hoskins just about lost his mind at all the hay getting’ blown out. Inside the crate, loosening from their place as the hay filtered out, long rods with explosives tied to their tips began to slip and topple. Hoskins let go of the lid to grab for the rods, I sidestepped the lid, and it came thudding down in a flurry of dust a dried-grasses. A large puffy cloud of hay fell out and waltzed around and dispersed and skipped away, and splayed itself out all over the Test Yard…and the minefield beyond. Hoskins stood there grumblin to himself, half apologizing for nearly crushin’ me, and more-so cursin’ at the mess. And, sure enough, one of the mustangs zoomed up over the ridge and down to the razor-wire and, then, decided to hop out of his dune buggy to chase down some of that good-ol hay. I nudged Hoskins in the side to watch and, when the blast of dirt and dust cleared with no sign of the punk to be seen, I handed him the tuft of hay.
“So, what is it you wanted to tell me about the hay?”
He told me all about the hay and, let me tell you what, it was a mouthful. “Rekindlite,” they called it, and by ‘they’ I mean the Firestarters, according to Hoskins that is. And, that it’s as good as gold to the Firestarters. He went on to tell me how they ground it up as fine as it could get, and that they used the powered dust as a fuel for the rocket boosters they so loved to use. All that said, it was a secretly valuable resource when it came to trading things between the factions, so, I understood why it was to be keep secret.
Anyways, I’m startin’ to ramble so, please, allow me to just get back to the story.
There I was, back in the garage workin’ on the Snaggeltooth with most everyone, Hoskins takin’ the parts list of what we pulled from the yard over to the sergeant’s bunk.
“Yeah!” I says to the others, “He just ran right after that stuff like there was no tomorrow and, BAM! No more Mustang…” the crew laughed here and there through the garage. “They even had the decency to park their rig right out front.” I cranked away on the ratchet, tightening one of the explosive rods to the undercarriage when, and this was some crazy crap, when Kenny (poor kid…rest his soul…good kid…shame) I guess no one had taken the time to explain to him exactly what he was handling. And, I have to admit to really only seeing it all outta’ the corner of my eye because, yeah, it happened so damn fast.
“I’ll save you, Nikki!” Kenny blurted out as he pulled a rod from the crate, hoisted it under his arm like he was Prince Valiant, or Sir Lancelot, swung it around and, BAM! I don’t know what he hit but he hit something.
Thrown to the ground with a ringing in my ears, a blind spot in the corner of one eye and the concrete floor all jammed up in the other, and with the wind knocked from my lungs. Aw crap! Is what I thought, “mbmmbmmpoo,” is what escaped my lips.
Kenny was just a scorched smear on the concrete with pieces of himself and the wooden crate scattered everywhere.
We all lost a little sleep that night. Kenny was just a teen that wandered up out of the dunes one day…knockin’ on the door of our garage just lookin’ for a place to belong.
Did he belong here? I thought to myself layin’ there on that saggy couch. I thought he did. “Should have watched out for him more…” I whispered into the crook of the couch as I rolled over.
Like I said, sleep was lost thinkin’ about it all. We had a plan set for the next day, and Kenny was set to fill up a barrel of fuel down at Fang’s station just before dawn. Now, that task fell to me, won’t be a big deal, I thought as I tossed and turned and, finally, drifted away.
My eyes opened up to the ashen grey of daybreak, and my heart just about jumped out of my chest, “Aw crap!” And, I’m pretty sure I woke up anyone else still asleep, but I didn’t stick around to find out. I grabbed the starter module for the Snaggeltooth, hopped into the rig (which I know for a fact woke everyone up), and got my sad ass down to Fang’s station. “Thank God they put the barrel in the back last night…” and they did. Thank God!

If you go on PrismReads.com, they are having an LGBTQIA+ book blast. All books are free. Download one or all. Now make sure something is the genre you like if you go. Some are fantasy, some are not, but they're all LGBTQIA+ and free. Did I mention free? I like free things 😄 some ARE definitely fantasy.
The only one on their that I've already read is Gilded Lies by Julie Mannino. That one is definitely fantasy and also romance (far more plot and not smutty). I recommend that one since I've finished the trilogy and loved it. I needed something short today, so I'll be reading The Monster's Desperate Prey by Ciara Bane. Don't judge😁
Here is a handy dandy list of the books I've copied for you. Please check prices. Apparently there can be glitches at times. If you come here late, I'd say you should have a look because while the event is one day, maybe some books will stay free for more than one. Anyway, enjoy!
Topped by My Father-in-law – Jay L. North Of Books and Paper Dragons – Vaela Denarr & Micah Iannandrea
Paint It Black – Kaos Emslie
Rise of the Resistance – Niranjan
Fractured Alliances – Niranjan
Last of Daylight – Nicole Hayes
Caught Up in Leaves and Vines – Jake Graham
The Fairy Festival – Arizona Tape
The Seven: Wooden Edition – Erin Curran
Hunt You Down – Rae Simmons
Gambit – TK Eldridge
Revelations: An Epic Dystopian Science Fiction – Ronin Romero
A Glorious Mess, Silver Locket Origins, Book 1 – Kennedy Sutton
Godsfall: The Book of One – Adam Gaffen
Gilded Lies An MM Fairy Prince Romance (Midas Book 1) – Julie Mannino
Bound by Scars & Secrets – Sienna Archer
Compass To My Heart – Bennu Bright
Soren – miranda page
No Rest for the Wicked (Life is Hell book 1) – Naomi Valkyrie
Sin on a Dark Knight – Rhiannon Futch
The Monster’s Desperate Prey – Ciara Bane
Worked by the Werewolf – Ciara Bane
The Vampire’s Kiss – Rae Simmons
Waves – Howl Avery
Devour – Howl Avery
How to Get a Girlfriend (When You’re a Terrifying Monster) – Marie Cardno
Her Unforgotten Bear Mate – Arizona Tape Surrogate Omega – Jacey Davis
Surprised by Fate – RS McKenzie
Omega’s Forever Home – Lacey Daize
Garden of Secrets – Drake LaMarque
Mark’s Promise – JoJo Stone
Persuade You – Ashley Rayne
Seeking Two Lovers – Lynn Burke
A Beach Far Away – BL Maxwell
Spark: A Chanukah Sport – Allie Lasky
Olivia’s Loving Threesome – Tamara Earthsong
Choke – Charity Parkerson
A Murder for Crow – layla dorine
After Hours – Becca Lamb
The Seven: Wooden Edition – Erin Curran

PART 1:

 Every town has their own version of “The Boogeyman”. A monster, cryptid, phantom, whatever you want to call it, it’s all essentially the same thing- just a scary story they tell kids in an attempt to get them to behave. An urban legend is just a life lesson disguised as a horror story after all. For us folk living up in the tiny and once prosperous gold-mining town of Trillium, ours was known simply as The Locust Man. Now, let me start by saying, I realize how ridiculous that name must sound to you. “The Locust Man”?? Pftt…What’s he do, besides get stuck in the grill of someone’s pick-up truck. Destroy some crops? Oooh, he sounds real scary... yeah, I know. But yet, as I sit here today 20 years after the fact - a grown woman who’s wiser, stronger, and even more grounded in reality than she was at 12, I still hesitate to even write down that name. 

As a young child I had always thought it to be a little weird that our town was called Trillium, considering I had never seen a single one growing there. If you don’t know, a trillium is a small flower, usually white but they come in other color varieties as well, with three pedals and a bright yellow center. They sort of look like if you took a lily and tore off every other pedal playing “He loves me, he loves me not”. In school, about 2nd grade or so, we were taught everything about this elusive flower I’d never seen in real life, and told how proud our town was to be named after it. Trillium, Colorado was established in 1922 - A new town born in the wake of a great tragedy which befell the town that had previously sat in the same location. For us, and those that came before us, the trillium was supposed to be a symbol of hope. Knowing all that I know now, that sentiment almost makes me want to laugh - in a morbid way.

 Growing up in a small, mostly isolated town, there really wasn’t much for a kid to do. You’d have to drive 45 minutes to get to the closest mall and movie theater. The high school kids would usually all hang out at the roller rink downtown or at the old run-down burger joint called Slim’s that sat across it. But at that age, I wasn’t allowed to go hang out there by myself yet and for me, going with my parents tagging along wasn’t an option I was open to. My neighborhood was on a long dead end road leading up to a large patch of woods that separated the main part of town from the abandoned mine. The old trail the miners used was still accessible up until a point, and so me and the other kids from my street would hang out in those woods all the time. We had a “secret spot” which was, what we thought at the time, about half way through the woods, 10 steps away from a small shallow creek that pretty much ran the length of the area. Rain Creek, we called it. There was a small clearing there, and we had created our own little clubhouse using old milk crates as supports, half- broken wooden pallets as walls, along with some old lawn chairs one of the neighbors was throwing out one day. I made my contribution by bringing a tarp we had in our basement that served as the roof of our establishment. Our parents didn’t love the idea of five 10 to 12 year olds running around in the woods by ourselves, but as long as we stayed within earshot and made it back before the streetlights came on, they probably figured it was safer than us being across town galavanting unsupervised. 

It was me, Lacey, Devin, Mikey and Michelle. We were all best friends - pretty much inseparable, except the boys weren’t invited to the girls’ sleepovers and vise versa. Everyday after school, we’d get dropped off by the bus at the very beginning of our road, and it was a running joke between the Rain Street Gang (as we liked to call ourselves) for all of us to try and run off the bus as quickly as possible, while me, Lacey and Devin would all yell in unison ‘Last two home are some rotten eggs!!’, as Mikey and Michelle tried to push past us to get a head start. The aforementioned two were siblings, and lived in the very last house on our row right next to the woods, so they’d always get home last, regardless of their efforts. Although, the year that Mikey got a pair of Heelys for Christmas he finally got his edge over the rest of us, leaving Michelle to be the lone “rotten egg” until the next summer when one of his wheels broke off. The whole point of it all was just to get home and get our chores and homework done as fast as possible, so we could meet up at Mikey and Michelle’s house with enough daylight left to make our trek into the woods and back - together as a group. All five of us had made a pact to never visit the clubhouse without all members present, although us girls always had a sneaking suspicion that the boys thought themselves exempt from that rule. They, after all, were the ones that had discovered the spot in the first place, and not to mention, did most of the physical labor of dragging our provisions out there. Me and Lacey initially only heard about the spot a day after the boys found it; Michelle had walked into Mikey’s room in the middle of him and Devin talking about it, and immediately relayed the message to us. Michelle wasn’t necessarily more loyal to the girls than the boys, she was just the youngest among us and honestly couldn’t resist blurting out any mildly relevant information she thought she might have, in an effort to be included. But in that regard, if the boys had ever gone out there on their own, they would’ve had to be extremely sneaky about it, because Michelle’s number one objective in life was to gather any piece of intel she could. It was a seemingly normal Saturday morning when we learned our suspicions about the boys may have been warranted.
I had slept over at Lacey’s house the night before. We had just woken up and were still sitting on her bed discussing our possible plans for the day, when Michelle busted through the door with a look on her face that immediately told us she had finally gotten a hold of some juicy information, before she could even open her mouth to stutter out, “You-you-you guyssss, guess w-w-what!?!” Lacey gestured the nail file that was in her hand toward her, raising her eyebrows bluntly as Michelle tried to catch her breath. “So… Devin came to sleep over last night, annnnnd I was pretending to go to the bathroom so I could spy on them. Seeeeee, I was supposed to be sleeping but I -“ “Ughh come on Michelle, get to it! What’d you hear?” Lacey snapped “Ughh okay okay. So, I heard the boys talking, anddddd…. they’re planning to go explore the old mine today!!” “Alright Michelle! Good spying!” I chuckled, trying to encourage her after Lacey’s impatience. Lacey rolls her eyes, then immediately stands up. She takes the scrunchie off her wrist, ties her long blonde hair into a messy bun, and simply said, “Let’s go.” “Lacey..” I said “What??” She responds as if she hadn’t registered the tone of my voice at all. As I opened my mouth to begin explaining all the logical and practical reasons why even if the boys were stupid enough to go play around somewhere dangerous, we shouldn’t be, Michelle exclaims, “That’s where the Locust Man lives!!” I close my mouth in defeat, as I know Lacey will take this nonsense as a challenge, and because of that, no amount of my warnings concerning actual dangers would have any effect on her decision. Lacey dismisses her comment as she attempts to shove her foot into one of her new pink sneakers that she refuses to admit are too small for her. “Pshhh, don’t be such a baby Michelle, he’s not real, you do know that right?” Michelle crinkled her face and yelled back, “Yes he is Lacey! He is!! And th-th- that’s where he lives, and he eats kids that go there!” Lacey laughs at her and says “Oh yeah? You still believe in Santa clause too? What about the tooth fairy?” Michelle looked down at her shoes, and although she could admittedly be annoying, I found myself feeling bad for her. “Come on Lacey, she’s just scared.” Lacey shot me a look like she was expecting me to burst into laughter, but I just gave her a smirk and a shrug, and she rolled her eyes and said “Get dressed.”

 We walked in silence toward the end of the road, though the reasons for all three differed drastically. Lacey’s was determination and resolve, mine was comtemptousness and defeat, and Michelle’s was just fear. I found myself half-way hoping the boys had left already, but as we approached the driveway we caught them just as they were about to step off the porch. 

“Hey!!” Lacey yelled, in her trademark cheerleader cadence. “Where do you boys think you’re going without us?”. Mikey let a groan and rolled his eyes, while Devin said through a coy smile, “Well, we were actually just heading out to go to find you girls.” “Liar.” Lacey snapped, quickly wiping the grin off Devin’s face. “Michelle already blabbed- we know where you two are going and we’re coming too.” The boys looked at each other, then Mikey shot Michelle an angry look as she tried to shrink herself behind me, and said, “Fine, whatever, but no cry baby snitches allowed!!” Michelle then proceeded to prove both of his accusations correct by yelling back, “I am not a cry baby!! I’m telling mom if you don’t let me come with you!!” At that point I finally spoke up. “Alright, listen.” I said sternly, then once I had their attention I lowered my voice a bit to say, “Just for the record, I think us going to that grody old mine is a dumb idea and a big waste of time, but if one of us goes, we all go. That’s the deal, so make your decisions.” Lacey folded her arms in solidarity beside me, and with that we all had an unspoken understanding. So, with the boys out ahead leading the way, we headed toward the tree line.

 As we entered the woods, I felt a sense of dread wash over me - but to be fair, as a preteen emo kid who had already reached an adult level of cynicism, I felt a certain level of dread towards almost everything in life. So take my premonition with a grain of salt, but for some reason, this felt… different. I remember the woods being abnormally quiet that day. It took some time for me to even notice, but as soon as I did, I interrupted the mindless chatter going on to say, 

“Where are all the freakin’ birds?” Everyone turned to look at me as if I’d completely lost my mind. “Uhhh… What are you talking about?” Devin asked me. I pointed up toward the treetops. “Listen…. ” They all looked up, then looked around at each other in confusion. “Every time we’ve ever been in these woods, there’s always birds chirping back and forth. We’ve been walking almost 5 minutes now and I haven’t heard a single bird, have you guys?” “Damn, yeah, that is weird.” Mikey agreed. “They probably all just migrated!!” Devin goofily offered. “That’s stupid Devin, it’s spring. If anything, there should be more birds here, not less you moron.” Lacie argued. Devin flipped Lacie off, which was the best rebuttal he could usually come up with, and then turned toward me and said, “Okay whatever, what’s your point exactly?” “Just that - “ I looked over to Mikey, then back at Devin. “It’s weird.” I didn’t want to say what I was actually thinking. That the woods being too quiet was never a good thing. That when birds aren’t chirping, it could mean there’s a predator nearby. Besides, I was pretty confident that the boys, having both been in the scouts, knew what I knew, so saying it out loud would only serve to annoy Lacie and further frighten Michelle. Mikey broke his gaze that had been fixed on me, and while scanning our surroundings he said, “Let’s stop by the clubhouse on the way.” With a nod from me, we continued. When we arrived at our pit stop, Lacey hobbled over to the closest lawn chair and plopped herself down in it. “Ughhh, my feet are killing me!!” “I wonder why.” I mutter under my breath. “Excuse me, what was that?” “Just saying. Those shoes are gonna be the death of you Lace, you can barely walk in them.” “Pshhh, shut up. They just need to be broken-in okay? You’re just jealous cuz you’re still wearing your dirty old Vans from last year.” “Oooh yeah, you got me there. I am so sad I don’t have a pair of ugly pink Sketchers that don’t fit me.” She stuck her tongue out at me and we both laughed. I was just about the only person who could go toe to toe with Lacey’s sass. It’s part of the reason we ended up being best friends, besides being neighbors. In regard to style, personality and interests, we were almost polar opposites. But when it came to humor we were equals. And more importantly, we both had a mutual understanding when it came to our differences- I was me and she was her, and neither of us felt the need to try and make the other one be more like us. Besides, I was the only person who had ever really stood up to Lacey and didn’t take any of her crap, so I think she respected that. While that exchange had been going on, Michelle had started picking tiny pink flowers, and the boys were rummaging in the clubhouse for something. I yelled in their direction, “Hey! Big Mike and Dirty D!!” Me and Lacey giggled and she mouthed the word “big” with air quotation marks. They didn’t respond, so I walked over to the entryway and looked in. They were standing with their backs to me while looking down at an open metal box, and Mikey was reaching to grab whatever was in it. As he stood back up, I could see what it was. “What the fuck Mikey, seriously?” Hearing me cuss, Lacey and Michelle crowded in behind me. “Chill, it’s just a BB gun.” “I know it’s a BB gun Michael, what are you doing with it, and why is it here?” I was livid at the thought that he might be coming out here and shooting at animals just to be a shithead. I expected something like that from a goober like Devin, but not Mikey. Michelle butted in, “I’m telling mom!!!” “Nice try, dad knows I have it.” He looked at me and softened his tone. “It’s for protection, just in case we come across a black bear, or some weirdo creep out here. Seriously… it’s just to scare off something, not hurt it.” He knew how I felt about killing animals, especially for no good reason. A lot of people out here are poor and hunt for food, which I could accept as a reality. But hurting animals just for fun is psycho behavior, so I was relieved to hear him dispel my fear; I really didn’t want to have to hate him. “Do you even know how to shoot that thing?” Lacey asked. “Yeah, my dad showed me.” Devin clapped his hands together, making us all jump and himself laugh. “Well alright then, let’s get going!” I turned to Michelle, still holding the flowers. “You okay?” She nodded. “If you want me to walk back with you, I can.” I was slightly hoping she’d say yes so I’d have an excuse to get out of this excursion, but she just shook her head and forced a smile. I knew she was scared, but she was just too curious. Maybe I was too.

 We walked for what felt like half an hour. The trees had gotten more dense and the path narrowed from the overgrowth. Still no birdsong. I kept scanning the area in search of any sign of life other than us. Looking for movement of creatures scurrying away, listening for the sound of rustling as we passed, hoping for a squirrel, a lizard, even a bug. Nothing. 

“How much further is this damn thing?” Lacey groaned. Mikey answered without even turning around. “We should be coming up on it any time now.” “You said that like 10 minutes ago.” “Yeah, and now we’re like 10 minutes closer to it. And hey guess what, you insisted on inviting yourself - so suck it up buttercup.” “Hahahaha!” Devin laughed like a maniac at Mikey’s quip, while Lacey folded her arms and for once in her life didn’t have a snappy comeback. This time however, I did. “Well we really only came along to make sure you idiots didn’t kill yourselves.” “Oh, so you girls came out here with us to be our protectors, huh?” Devin laughed. “Ehh, more like babysitters.” Needless to say, I was flipped off for that statement. We rounded the next bend and suddenly all came to an abrupt stop one after another, starting with Mikey. Devin positioned himself beside him and let out a disappointed groan. “Shit Mikey!” A huge tree had fallen and was blocking the trail completely. There was no way we could climb over it because of all the leaves and branches - we’d have to go around it, which meant leaving the safety of the trail and crossing Rain Creek twice to get back to it. “Seriously???” Lacey exclaimed. “Maybe it’s a sign that we shouldn’t be going.” I shrugged. Mikey didn’t seem fazed by the obstruction at all. In fact, he seemed more confident. More calm. More sure of his intended mission. “It’s fine, we’ll just go around.” Michelle, who had been mostly quiet this whole time, finally broke her fear induced silence. “We are NOT supposed to leave the tr-tr-trail Michael! We could get lost!” “We aren’t gonna get lost Michelle, I have a compass. Plus, it’s literally just a few paces that way, then we cross the creek and circle back once we pass the tree and we’re right back on the trail.” “Oh you have got to be kidding me” Lacey said, “I’m not treading through that nasty water!” “Yeah Mikey, what about Lacey’s brand new shoes??” I laughed, and she playfully slapped me in the arm. Mikey’s patience was wearing thin with us. “Look, we already walked this far - if we turn back now, we’ve wasted the whole day for nothing. If you girls wanna be lame and turn around, then go for it - but me and Dev are going.” That’s all Lacey needed. A challenge to accept; someone to prove wrong. “I’ll show you lame.” She pushed past the boys and lead the way into the thick brush towards Rain Creek. It wasn’t very wide across, and there were lots of fallen limbs and large rocks spread throughout it. The current was barely that of a trickle, and the depth was no more than knee deep for us. It was definitely doable - just an inconvenience. And of course, one more ominous obstacle lying directly in our path. Another hint from the universe telling us to turn around. We didn’t listen. Lacey placed one foot on the closest limb and pushed down a few times to test its sturdiness. “I got this.” She stepped out onto it with both feet, then shimmied sideways until she was close enough to the large exposed rock in the middle of the creek, and hopped onto it. She turned around with a full grin and said, “Coming?” Mikey made his way across the limb as Lacey hopped onto a different limb which led her to the other side of the creek. Devin followed, then me, and then it was Michelle’s turn. “I’m scared to fall in!” Of course she is, I should have made her go before me. “It’s okay Michelle, it’s easy!” I reassured her. She didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Come on Chelle, we’re leaving you!” Mikey yelled, already walking away. “Nooo!! I’m coming! Wait!” She made it across, but instead of just walking like everyone else did, she got down on her hands and knees and gripped the limb as if it were the only thing in between her and a 50 foot drop to the ground, which was funny to see but prolonged the whole process further. After all, we were about to have to do all of this again. Next go round went a lot smoother. The creek was more shallow here, and there were a whole lot more stepping rocks and debris built up. Having just crossed successfully a few minutes ago, we were all more confident in our abilities, including Michelle - who this time we made go first. “Just walk across like it’s a bridge! You got this!!”, we all cheered for her, and then clapped when she made it to the other side. Before we knew it we were back on the trail, and it wasn’t long after that we finally arrived at our intended destination.

 We all stopped and stared at it for a minute, carefully examining the dilapidated exterior of the place that had brought both prosperity and destruction upon our town. Mikey bent down, picked up a rock and threw it into the entrance. We heard it bounce a few times before it stopped. 

“Just to make sure nothing’s in there.” he turned around to clarify. “Did anyone think to bring a flashlight?” I asked. “It’s dark as hell in there.” I was hoping for just one more reason not to go. Devin reached into his cargo shorts pocket and pulled out a small keychain-sized flashlight, smiling with the satisfaction of finally being useful. “Okay, Mikey’ll hold the gun, I’ll shine the light and you girls follow behind us. Let’s go.” Mikey shifted the BB gun from its position of resting on his shoulder, to holding the barrel in his left hand and the butt in his right; trying his best to emulate a soldier’s stance. Something his dad had taught him I’m sure. We ducked down a bit to enter. “How far in we going?” Lacey asked. “Until we see something cool.” Mikey answered. I turned around to check on Michelle, still hovering in the doorway. “You coming?” I could see in her eyes that fear had finally gotten the better of her, and curiosity had taken a backseat. With wide eyes she shook her head. “The-the Locust Man lives in there.”, she tried to whisper. “I knew you were gonna be a baby about this!” Mikey yelled. I crouched down and put my hand on her shoulder. Against my better judgment, I say “How bout you just wait here for us and pick some more flowers. We won’t be long, there’s nothing in there, I promise. Just.. don’t move from this spot and we’ll be right back, okay?” I could feel her unease, but she seemed to accept my reassurance nonetheless. “Okay.” I smiled, then stood up and looked down at my watch to check the time. 12:46 PM. I turned and headed into the darkness, trying to catch up with everyone else. I didn’t feel good about leaving Michelle, but I didn’t feel good about letting the rest of them go in there alone either. And if I’m being honest, maybe a little part of me wanted to see what was in there too. When I caught up to Lacey she asked, “Where’s Michelle?” “Stayed behind at the entrance, she was too scared. I told her to pick flowers and wait there for us.” “Pshh, figures.” “Yeah. How’s your feet?” “At this point, numb actually.” It was so dark in there that even Devin’s rinky dink flashlight was illuminating the area enough for me to start taking a closer look at my surroundings. I looked around at the rock walls, they were covered in what looked like orange mold and green algae. There was a slight breeze coming in from the entrance, but the whole place just had a staleness to it. The boys stopped and turned around as we arrived at the first curve. “So ladies, what do you think? Cool huh?” Devin asked excitedly. “Smells like a fart in here.” I said.

 The most dangerous thing about exploring an old mine wasn’t getting lost in the maze of tunnels, or tripping on the rusted tracks and slamming your head against the wall - it was something simply referred to as bad air. Pockets of still air that have dangerously low levels of oxygen, the old men in town would call it “black damp”. There was also something produced from the old chemicals they once used called “stink damp”, which smelled like rotten eggs. Both were lethal. 

“I wonder if there’s dead bodies in here!” “Uh, Dev… we’re gonna be the dead bodies in here if we go in too far. I wasn’t just making a joke, you know that rotten egg smell can mean bad air.” Mikey interjected. “The entrance isn’t far behind us, there’s still enough fresh air coming in. We won’t go in too far, let’s just get to the end of this tunnel where it splits off and look around a bit, then we’ll turn around.” The fork in the tunnel really wasn’t that much further, and even though I knew once we rounded this curve I wouldn’t be able to see the entrance behind me anymore, I decided what the hell. Maybe a hundred more steps, then we can finally turn around and this whole dumb situation would be closer to being over with. When we got there, we looked down the length of the connecting tunnels each way. Everything looked unusually identical in its deterioration. I could see how someone could easily get disoriented and lost down here. “Hellooooo…” Mikey yelled to the left, his voice echoing through the corridor. Devin turned to the opposite direction and called out, “Hey yo, Locust Man!! You in here?” We all giggled, which made me think about Michelle, still waiting at the entrance for us, alone in the woods. I looked down at my watch. 12:46 PM. “Hey what the f-“ My cuss word was interrupted by a loud bang that came from the passageway Devin had just been hollering into. We all froze. I didn’t have time to process that my watch had stopped right as we entered the tunnel, or that Michelle had been left alone for who knows how long now, or that we had just heard what sounded like a support beam crashing to the ground, because next came a horrifying screeching buzzing sound. It sounded distant at first, but was quickly increasing in volume. We silently looked around at each other and backed away stunned at what we were hearing. Mikey never took his eyes off the tunnel though, and slowly he began to raise the BB gun to firing position. Without even thinking, I grabbed the barrel and pushed it downward. He quickly tore his eyes away from his target to look at me. I shook my head and managed to barely choke out the word, “Explosion.” He nodded and I let go. I looked down at the gun in his hands, and seeing his finger had already been on the trigger, I realized how lucky it was that I didn’t make him shoot himself in the foot. All of a sudden, the noise stopped. “What the hell was that?” Lacey asked. “I don’t know, nothing good.” I said. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here before this whole place caves in on us or something.” Another loud bang erupted from the right, extremely close to us. “Shit!!!” We all turned around and ran as fast as we could back toward the entrance. Devin tried to push past me, but as he did my elbow knocked the flashlight out of his hand. “My flashlight!!!” “Leave it!” Mikey shouted “The turn is right here, we won’t need it!” We rounded the corner, and using what little light there was illuminating from the entrance to guide us back, we ran like our lives depended on it. And they may have- none of us dared to look back, not like we would have been able to see anything anyway. When we finally made it out, we were all completely out of breath. I felt like I was going to throw up. I have to admit though, once we had made it back to safety I felt a rush of adrenaline like I had just had a near death experience. That feeling quickly faded into sheer panic when I looked around and realized Michelle was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, where’s Michelle?” Mikey asked me. “I told her to stay right here, she can’t be very far… Michelle!!!!” We all called her name, as loud as we could. No answer, no sign of her anywhere. “Alright look, she probably went off a little further looking for flowers to pick.” I tried to rationalize. “Let’s just split off in 4 directions and walk in a straight line while calling for her. She’s bound to hear one of us.” Everyone agreed, and even though I appeared outwardly as the level-headed calm person you need to take control in an emergency, inside I was petrified that something had happened to her, and that it would be my fault. I took the east, and headed out. It didn’t take too long before I passed a large tree and saw her sitting down behind it, looking at something on the ground. “Michelle! Oh thank god!! Didn’t you hear us calling for you??” She didn’t answer me, or even turn around. “Michelle, didn’t I tell you to stay by the entrance and not move?!?” My relief was quickly turning into annoyance as she continued to ignore me. I walked up closer to see what she was looking at, and my mouth dropped in awe of what she had found. It was a single white trillium.

 They say it takes 8 years for a trillium plant to produce a flower, and conditions have to be just right for it to bloom. That’s what makes them so special and rare. I stared down at it almost in a trance, like I was seeing a mythical creature. Michelle slowly reached out her hand towards it and I snapped out of it. 

“No!!” I grabbed her by the arm and she finally turned around to look at me. “If you pick the flower, the plant will die.” She ripped her arm away from my grasp and whined, “But I want to show my mom!” We heard Mikey calling from the north and I cupped my hands over my mouth to yell back, “I found her, she’s over here!!” I looked back at her. “No Michelle, come on, you can just tell her about it when we get back home.” I had enough, I was beyond ready to go and we still had at least another 45 minutes of walking to even get back to the clubhouse; an hour if Michelle kept up her crap. I grabbed her arm again and pulled her up to a standing position, looking back at the trillium as I walked her away. Mikey caught up to us, breathless but trying to hide his concern. “You little shit, we should have left you out here! What the hell were you doing?” I let go of her arm and she walked toward Mikey. “She was trying to pick a flower over there.” “It was a trillium!!” Michelle said, with the biggest smile on her face. “Wait, really?” He looked at me in disbelief. Before I could respond, a blood curdling scream echoed through the forest, coming from the west. It was Lacey. My heart dropped into my stomach and once again, every molecule in my body went into full blown panic mode. This time, I couldn’t contain my composure. “Laceyyyyyy!!!!!” A panicked shriek erupted from my lungs and I took off running. Mikey grabbed Michelle and sprinted after us. The trees became a blur; I didn’t even feel all the scratches and scrapes. Had she come across a coyote? A mountain lion? A bear? I didn’t even stop to think about the danger I might be about to come in contact with, I just ran. And then I found her. She was lying on the ground, holding her left foot. “Lacey!!” I said, trying to choke back the tears that were building up. “I think I twisted my ankle!!” “Oh god damn it, you bitch.” I struggled to catch my breath. “I thought you were dead.” “I might as well be, I have cheerleading practice on Monday!” Mikey and Michelle caught up to us. “What happened?” He asked “She’s being a drama queen, she just rolled her ankle.” I was angry. “Can you get up?” He asked her. She was able to stand, but as soon as she tried to put any pressure on her foot at all, she screamed in pain. We spotted Devin running over from the south as he was yelling out, “Hey yo, everyone alive and accounted for?” “Yeah, Lacey hurt her ankle.” Mikey yelled back. As he approached he looked concerned. “Can you walk on it?” He asked her. “No.” Without hesitation he replied, “Well alright then, looks like you’re gonna have to piggyback it all the way back home.” He lowered himself enough to where she could hop up onto his back, and we headed back toward the trail. Even though my nerves had begun to settle a bit, I knew we were still far from being out of the woods, in more ways than one.